The Fourth Stall One Shot Collections
by ArtemisGriffin
Summary: Why did Vince betray Mac? Why was Staples so hell-bent on getting back his little sister? Here, we explore the inner working of the characters' minds each in their own little oneshot.
1. Vince

It wasn't that he didn't want to go to the game. It wasn't that he didn't respect or care for his best friend in the world. It was just that... This was his responsibility. Or at least, his other responsibility. When it came to the point where he had to choose between his best friend and lifelong dream and his family, he had to choose her. His mother. Mac could never understand. They just didn't live the same life anymore. Not since Mac had moved out of the park. He didn't understand, couldn't understand how much he needed this.

Mac didn't get why he had stolen from the Fund or why he had lied to his best friend in the world. And he never would. Vince understood this. He understood why Mac had been so angry, why he had felt the way he did. What he didn't understand were his own feelings. He knew that lying and stealing were wrong. He knew that Mac had a right to be mad, to accuse him of being selfish, and maybe he was. Maybe he was being selfish when destroyed their shared dream in favor of his delirious mother. But the anger he felt when Mac exposed him and the fear and anxiousness he felt leading up to it, that he could not explain. He was terrified of being found out, terrified of Mac leaving him.

He did it anyway. He didn't confess. He didn't return or replace the money. And he didn't know why. He endangered their business, their dream, even their lives by not exposing Staples. Mac didn't understand. They were different now. No longer the two friends defending their sandbox, they were now the problem-solvers, the go-getters, the epitome of 'One for all, and all for one'. Gone were the days of the retributions in the form of harsh words or light blows. Now they faced injury and, in Mac's case concerning him and Staples' car, even possible death.

Life had advanced, and so had Mac. Vince was left behind in their wake. Left to watch over his mother and her ramblings, leaving her small gifts that only enforced her delusions. Mac was then in a better neighborhood, a better house, and, questionably, a better life. Was it better to have a nice residence, or to be spared the pressure of solving everyone else's problems? Would Vince trade what he had, for what Mac had? No. He wouldn't. Even with his mother, the Fund, and Staples, there was no place he would rather be. He had earned his place, even is stealing and lying contributed to it. He had earned his life, and it was his. Mac had earned his. It was the way of life. Mac solved others' problems, and in return, lost his. Karma. That's what it was. Even if Vince's crimes had brought him bad luck, he would be sure to make up for it in the future. He would make it up to Mac, and himself.

END

Hello there! I hope you enjoyed the first installment of The Fourth Stall One Shots Collection. This is my first attempt at... Well, anything, so any kind of comment is appreciated!

Do you have any requests? Would you like to see the inner workings of your favorite character? Did I miss a topic you would like touched on? Leave a review! Each one shot is supposed to be (hopefully) 500 words each and about 12 in total.

Thanks For Reading!


	2. Kitten

I've never really been normal, that much I know. I suppose it's a little hard to notice at first, and that's how I like it. Few people know exactly who I am, and to be fair, I sometimes doubt if I do myself. It's easy to forget exactly who's who, though it may not seem that way. With two so distinct personalities, it should be simple to keep them apart. It's not. Being drawn into one is like giving in to the other. Losing one, is becoming the other. Becoming one... becoming one is terrifying. Being combined to one state of mind for eternity is simply the worst fate imaginable. I can't understand how they do it. How does the rest of the world remain the same, day in and day out? The moods and emotions, they seem almost unmoving. They have no tone, they are consistent, follow the same pattern.

They say variety is the spice of life, but I do not see my own uniqueness in the world. I am free through my division. I do not have to choose. I can be sweet and innocent, the kind of person you can tell anything and always trust with your darkest secrets. I am also your worst nightmare, the one you do not want to be alone with, the one who is not afraid, not weak. Those... unsavory deeds, the least desirable jobs that few dare to speak of, those are my treasures. The things no one could even think of doing, I do them. And I don't mind it. It is my calling.

What I do, it's where I get to do what I do best, be different. Need information out of a tight lipped teacher? I'm your guy. Need to staple a bully's pants to their leg? I can do that too. Versatile, that's what I am. And valuable apparently. When Mac requested my help for the job, I couldn't resist. I hadn't been needed before, not like this.

This was for the greater good. This was bigger than doing odd jobs around the hallways. No more scaring away mean substitutes or charming my way to obtaining test answers. I had... no, have a purpose. This is why I am different, why I am the way I am. No one can do what I do, no one can change their entire personality at the flip of a switch. I have connections. I have the will. I can do it. I can do anything. I stand up for those I believe are just and deserving. Mac, Vince, they are... worthy, in a sense. I can help them without feeling empty or dull. The jobs they ask me to do, they are for me. Not just a part of me, all of me. I can utilize my true self, I can use what I was born with. That's what we're all meant to do right? That's what we're always told. Adults say it all the time. 'Be who you are, not who people want you to be'. If that is true, then I should not be one. I should be many. I should be, no, I **am** entitled to myself. The choice is not one to be made. It would be like trying to change my eye color or my hair. No matter how much you cover it up, it is there, lying hidden beneath the lies. And eventually, all roots begin to show.

END

Hey there! Thanks for reading the second installment in the Fourth Stall Oneshot Collection!

I have a few people I'd like to specially thank *ahem*

First I'd like to thank Hell Executioner for requesting an analysis of Kitten. To be honest, Kitten was pretty low on my list on account of him having so few moments of dialogue. Once I started writing, I noticed how much fun he is to play with. So thank you for opening me to the wonders of the quiescent characters!

I would also like to give an EXTRA SPECIAL thanks to Life Among The Dead. Seriously, you are AMAZING. My first follow and favorite in one package. You cannot understand how much I appreciate it 3

Lastly (I swear I'm almost done), I have a few tiny requests.

1) Thoughts on a song fic? I was thinking a little something about the relationship between Mac and Vince. Maybe a little ship-idge if you squint :3

2) So, I'm going to jump right to the feared heart of the matter, does anyone have any ships? I'm so very curious.

Finally, let me restate it one last time,

THANK YOU!


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